


Grandma's Cider

by Sweetestlittledarling



Series: Markiplier/Jackseptic Eye Ego Christmas Series [12]
Category: WKM - Fandom, Who Killed Markiplier, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Before WKM, Christmas, Cider, Darkiplier - Freeform, Markiplier egos - Freeform, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 19:34:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13037943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetestlittledarling/pseuds/Sweetestlittledarling
Summary: Being sick sucks, but it sucks less with Damien...Part of the Ego Christmas challenge thing on Tumblr. Prompt #12: Cider





	Grandma's Cider

Being sick sucks. It goes without saying but you’ve been saying it for the past few days anyway, as the snot runs both down your throat and out of your nose. For a while, you convinced yourself that the cold/flu/black plague you’ve contracted will not hold you back. You were doing fine until a couple days ago when the germs decided that it was time to stop fooling around. They staged a full-on attack on your body, weakening your bones, turning your stomach, and the worse thing of all, bringing on the fountains of snot. You sit huddled on your couch now, covered with a blanket as you try to stay warm, a mountain of tissues ever growing beside you. It’s in these moments you miss your parents, just a little. At least back home there would have been someone to take care of you, but you had to move out on your own, to the big city no less, far away from your nagging family.

             There is a knock at the door and you groan as you contemplate getting up. You don’t want to; your entire body is objecting to the idea of moving from under your blankets. Luckily whoever is on the other side of the door has a key…Wait, only one other person but you have a key to your apartment. “Damien?” you call.

             “Yeah, it’s me,” Damien says as he comes into the room, carrying a paper bag and looking as handsome as ever (the bastard). “When I heard you weren’t in your office today I got worried. Someone said you called in sick.” He takes one look at you and winces.

             You can imagine that you don’t look pretty, what with your snotty nose and your pale skin. You pull up your blanket, not only to block the germs but to block him from seeing your ugliness. “Don’t look at me, I’m hideous,” You hiss, “plus you shouldn’t be here, you will get sick. And you don’t have time to get sick because you are on the campaign trail!”

             You hear Damien chuckle as his hand lowers the blanket (not that you have much fight in you to keep it up). “You, dear friend, look as lovely as always,” he says, as he smiles sweetly, “and as for getting sick well that is the risk, I must take, because I am not leaving you to suffer alone. Plus, I have brought a secret weapon to help you battle your illness.”

             “A secret weapon?”

             He reaches into his bag and pulls out what appears to be a jug of cider. “My grandmother’s apple cider. She used to claim it could make a blind man walk and lame man see.”

             You blink. “It might be the sickness- “

             “No, my grandmother was a bit on the looney side. But honestly, a little of this warmed up will help I promise.”

             Well, of course, you trust Damien and it is nice having him here. “I guess it can’t hurt,” you say sniffling, “I mean I’m already dying so it can’t do much else can it?”

             Damien nods as he walks back to the kitchen. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

             “Not like I’m going anywhere,” you moan as you curl back into your blankets. You are unsure of how long it takes as you kind of pass out, your body giving into your need to rest. You awaken to the feeling of someone gently stroking your hair. It’s nice, kind of like the way your mother did when you were a kid. You open your eyes and find Damien seated next to you on the couch, with your head on his leg. You really hope that you didn’t drool on him (you probably did). “Sorry,” you say, not sure which reason you are apologizing for (probably the drool).

             Damien just smiles in that calm and gentle way that is Damien. “You don’t have to apologize,” he says, “I know it can’t be easy being sick, especially for someone like you so far from home. Do you think you want to try some of the cider?”

             You nod, carefully maneuvering yourself into a seated position. All the snot that had been gathering in your sleep starts to shift and you feel the urge to sneeze. Before you can grab a tissue a glob of green comes shooting out of your nose. Great, now you must look even better with a massive ball of snot hanging from your nose.

             But Damien just smiles as he fishes his handkerchief from his pocket and wipes your nose.

             “You could have just used a tissue,” you say, muffled by the handkerchief.

             “Yes, I know, now blow,” he says. You do as he commands and manages to remove some of the blockage from your poor red nose. Damien puts the handkerchief back into his pocket before reaching out to the coffee table for the mug he apparently left there. “Here you are,” he says, handing it to you. “Be careful it is warm.”

             “Yes mother,” you chuckle. The steam from the cup tickles your nose and it helps to open your airways just a little more. The smell is delicious and so is the taste as you carefully sip at the warm liquid. It fills you with a kind of warmth you haven’t felt in days and unlike many other foods, doesn’t seem to upset your stomach. You wonder if there is magic in this glass and given Damien, you wouldn’t be surprised if there was. You sigh as you finish your drink, allowing Damien to take the mug and gently place it on the coffee table again. “That was so good,” you say. You lean your head against Damien’s shoulder, snuggling closer to him as you blame the sickness for your lack of caring how this all might look. “Thank you for coming Damien.  I really do feel a little bit better now.”

             You hear Damien chuckle as he rubs your back in a soothing way. “As a friend once said, I got your back chief.”


End file.
